Solstice at Stonewylde

by Kit Berry

  ‘I don’t know how to run a community, but there are many people here to help me and I’ll learn. Being magus doesn’t have to mean managing the community alone just because you’ve done it that way. The magus is the magician, the wise one, the one blessed with the Earth Magic, and that’s me, as you must’ve just seen. I didn’t choose or ask for this honour but it’s come to me and I accept the responsibility that goes with the power. So save your breath – whatever you say, you can’t change what’s going to happen.’

  Magus regarded him steadily, keeping his temper reined in.

  ‘Are you angry because I lied to you about Sylvie?’

  ‘I’m angry about everything you’ve ever done to Sylvie.’

  ‘Can you understand why I pretended she was your sister? I’m sure you can – and remember, by doing that I was also denying myself.’

  Yul shrugged again.

  ‘You don’t really want Sylvie, not for herself and all that she is. You only want to steal her gift of moon magic.’

  ‘It’s true I want to share her gift, but only because it benefits the community. When I’ve tasted her magic, I’m full of energy. Have you felt the power in those moon eggs? I have some left up at Mooncliffe – we’ll go up there now and you can feel just how strong they are. It’s different from the Earth Magic, more exciting and wild somehow.’

  ‘I’d never take the moon magic and it isn’t for you either – it’s for Stonewylde. Sylvie must channel it into the hill at Hare Stone, where the spirals are strong. But you make her feed it into the moon rocks and you’ve become evil and greedy, thinking only of your own needs and not those of Stonewylde. And that’s why you’re finished.’

  Magus sighed, turning so that he stood face to face with Yul, who was only very slightly shorter than him now. It seemed only a few months ago that he’d been looking down at a boy – a tousle-haired, surly boy who defied him with his smouldering eyes and curled lip. And now he faced a young man who pulsed with power and confidence.

  ‘Yul, together we could run this place like it’s never been run before! I have the wisdom and experience, the money and the knowledge. You have the Earth Magic, the energy, the youth and the power. Think of it – father and son, ruling together in harmony. The day after tomorrow you’ll be an adult and you can have any woman you choose for your Rite of Adulthood. I’d even let you have Sylvie, though she’s a little young. A moongazy girl is special and to be prized above any other woman. She’s unique and magical, but I’d be prepared to give her to you to prove just how much I’m willing to sacrifice for the good of Stonewylde.’

  The sun had risen well above the horizon now and shone into the Circle, its glittering mid-winter light gilding everything it touched. As Magus watched, the sunlight turned Yul’s skin to gold, his dark curls to glossy sable. The boy laughed, his eyes flashing sparks as he looked at the shadowed face of the great man before him.

  ‘Do you really think I’d let you be part of my life and my future? All you’ve ever wanted is my death and suffering – you hate me and you’ve always hated me. And as for offering me Sylvie – she’s not yours to give away. You can’t use her as a bribe to get what you want. She has chosen me and you don’t come into it at all!’

  His grey eyes flicked over his father with contempt.

  ‘Two more days, Magus of Stonewylde.’

  Yul turned and left the Stone Circle, heading for the Village.

  Magus walked up to Mooncliffe and gazed out to sea, still struggling to curb his anger. It was cold and breezy, the wind whipping the sea into sparkling waves that danced in the sunlight. He was furious at the cavalier way that Yul had rejected his offer of partnership, but as he calmed down he decided that maybe it was just as well. It’d been a stupid, spur of the moment decision to spare the boy’s life and suggest a joint rule. It could never have worked, and nor could he ever have let Yul have his moongazy girl. Sylvie might think she loved Yul but he’d enjoy showing her the error of her ways.

  Magus climbed onto the great moon rock and felt only a slight flicker of the moon magic, for it was almost two months since Sylvie had danced here for him. He thrilled at the thought of the Moon Fullness the night after this, on the eve of the Winter Solstice. It would be particularly strong, a mixture of moon energy and solstice power, and he’d drain every drop of magic from the girl. He’d bring her to heel and break her spirit, whatever it took. Once he’d disposed of Yul it would be so much easier, and he’d savour every moment of her misery.

  Magus jumped off the moon rock and went over to the two wooden chests where the used eggs were heaped all around in a great pile of sparkling white stone. There were six moon eggs left, locked away safely in one of the chests. After last month’s fiasco he’d been rationing them carefully and hadn’t touched one for ages. He knew how crucial it was that he had power for the Winter Solstice, if he meant to kill Yul. If by some terrible misfortune he didn’t manage to get Sylvie up here first to energise the moon rock and all the eggs, at least with the power from these remaining six eggs he’d still be able to defeat the boy. Yul had such an unfair advantage, he thought angrily, with all that stolen Earth Magic inside him.

  Magus pulled the padlock key from his pocket. One chest was empty, and he opened the other one. Yes, six moon eggs remained, nestling together in a glorious white heap of pure moon magic. He decided to treat himself as he was feeling so low. He needed a boost; he was tired and angry, drained from his unexpectedly humiliating experience yesterday in front of all the Hallfolk, and livid with that damned boy and his arrogance in the Stone Circle.

  Sylvie was waiting for him up in his apartments, probably awake by now and crying pathetically in a corner. He’d been a little harsh with her since the incident in the Galleried Hall; it was Clip and Yul he’d really like to get his hands on, but she was a captive target. He must get himself under control and not break her completely before the full moon tomorrow. Martin could help tomorrow night with all the eggs and there’d be no trouble getting Sylvie up here, weakened as she was. And should that jumped-up brat of his try to rescue her, he’d be in for a nasty shock. Magus smiled grimly – he had that covered.

  He reached into the chest for an egg, bracing himself for the jolt of quicksilver that would flood through his body and continue for hours while he held the egg. There was no other sensation like it on Earth. His long fingers curled around the white, sparkly rock–nothing happened. He frowned in disbelief and snatched up the egg. No magic at all! He tossed it down onto the pile outside the chest; he must’ve put a used one back in the chest by mistake and now he only had five.

  Magus picked up another one and yelled in dismay for this too was dead. In dread, he touched the remaining four eggs one by one. With a scream of pure rage he stumbled backwards, unable to believe it. Somebody had switched the eggs! What if something went wrong tomorrow night? There was no back-up now. His vision dimmed as wave after wave of fury pounded from his head down into his abdomen. Somebody had dared to steal from him, to trick him, and it had to be Yul.

  Sylvie looked around the beautiful room that had been a living hell since yesterday morning when they’d returned from the revelation in the Galleried Hall. Magus had been terrifying and the very sight of her seemed to fuel his anger further. Clip had tried to come in but Magus had yelled at him and locked the door, pacing the floor like a caged beast and roaring his fury at her all day and evening. Sylvie had been cooped up alone with him all that time, entirely at his mercy, and had for once been grateful for the mead which allowed her to slip from reality.

  She hoped today would be better – perhaps after a ride or whatever he was doing now, he’d have calmed down. She got up from the sofa and hurried through the chain of rooms to her bedroom hoping that Cherry had left her something to eat – she was so desperately hungry. She knelt down and peered under the four-poster bed and her heart jumped at the sight of the tray waiting there for her. Delighted, for she’d eaten virtually nothing the day before nor the one before that
, she tucked ravenously into the food. As she crammed cold chicken and ham pie into her mouth, chewing as fast as she could, Sylvie wondered as ever how she’d have managed over the past few days without Cherry’s help.

  After brushing her teeth and making sure her breath was fresh, for she knew just how astute Magus could be, Sylvie returned to the sitting room and flung the windows open. The cold air made her shiver but was better than the stifling stuffiness and a welcome relief from the roaring heat that made her so drowsy and weak. She was living a nightmare and her only consolation was that tomorrow night was the Moon Fullness, when she could finally escape. She could survive anything knowing that the end was now in sight.

  Sylvie looked out of the window at the blue sky, cold and crisp in the December sunshine. Wood pigeons called softly from the delicate pattern of the trees’ bare branches and she suddenly thought of Professor Siskin up in Oxford. She had an image of a large, comfortable room, as ancient as this one, and the old man sitting at a desk in an oriel window gazing out at the cloistered green below. She felt, in one of her occasional flashes of intuitive empathy, his infinite sadness and longing. In that moment she understood just how passionately the professor loved Stonewylde and how very much he missed being here. In the autumn she’d decided to invite him back to Stonewylde as soon as Magus was gone, but why not invite him home for the Solstice? Then he could see Yul become the new magus and be a part of the transition himself. She remembered how taken he’d been with Yul, and his preoccupation with both the ancient Green Man of Stonewylde and the wood henge of the Village Green.

  Magus must have been gone for some time, but if she were quick she might be able to e-mail the professor before her captor returned. Sylvie raced through the chambers to her bedroom and looked around frantically for her computer, brought here when she thought she could do some school work. She found the bag and hurried all the way back to the sitting room where she could access the Internet, knowing it may not work well further down the long wing. Sylvie furiously typed an e-mail to the professor, briefly explaining the new turn of events. She suggested that he travel to Stonewylde tomorrow on Solstice Eve, so he’d be ready for the sunrise celebrations the day after at the Winter Solstice itself. She also mentioned her original idea that he move to Stonewylde permanently once Yul had become the new magus. Her fingers trembled as they flew across the keyboard, making stupid spelling mistakes in her nervousness. She sent the message the second she was finished and took a deep breath of relief.

  Sylvie stuffed the computer back in its bag, not daring to wait for a reply, and then remembered what she’d hidden in the side pocket. She unzipped it and carefully drew out her precious photo of Yul, just what she needed to give her heart now. She sat down on the window seat and gazed longingly at that beloved face smiling dreamily out at her from a halo of leaves. Yul’s deep grey eyes stared into hers and she felt a great surge of love for him, so powerful and overwhelming that tears came to her eyes. If anything were to happen to him tomorrow night at the Moon Fullness … If anything were to go wrong …

  She heard the key turning in the lock of the great oak door and hastily slid the photo between the pages of a book lying on the cushions. She held the book in trembling hands and pretended to read, the weak midwinter sun washing her face. The heavy door was flung open and Magus crashed in. She’d never seen him so angry and her heart leapt frantically in her chest. His lips were a thin white line in a face dark and mottled with fury. He strode over as she shrank back in the seat trying to curl up small, cowering before his wrath. Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her roughly to her feet. The book fell to the floor and he kicked it right across the room.

  ‘WHERE ARE MY MOON EGGS?’ he roared into her face.

  Cherry returned to the kitchens pale and shaken. She banged the tray onto the enormous scrubbed table and looked around the crowded room for her sister. The vast area was filled with Villagers scurrying about preparing the next meal for the Hallfolk, whose numbers were hugely swollen by all the extra visitors arrived for the Winter Solstice and Yule celebrations. The white-aproned servants worked diligently at their tasks, with a flushed and sweating Marigold bellowing orders and chivvying everyone in sight.

  ‘Oh dear Goddess, I don’t like the turn o’ things,’ said Cherry, shaking her head.

  ‘What? What’s ado, sister? Clover, do NOT put the egg whites in that bowl! What are you thinking of? And hurry along with them parsnips, April. They should be in the stove by now!’

  ‘’Tis the master. I never seen him like this afore – he’s gone barking mad!’

  ‘Why? What’s happened? No, Clover, not that one! Cherry, I don’t have time now – you see how rushed ‘tis in here. Tell me later, my dear.’

  ‘Aye, I will, but I’m that worried for the little maiden. I didn’t use the dumb waiter and took the tray up myself so as I could see what’s going on in there – and ‘tis worse than I’d ever thought.’

  ‘Is she alright? She looked starved yesterday – never seen a girl so thin and pale.’

  ‘No, she seems even worse today and he wouldn’t let her have any o’ these sandwiches, not one! But she’s still knocking back the mead at his say so, and he’s shouting and ranting at her. She looks more poorly than when she came here a nine-month ago. And he’s got that glint in his eye – you know what I mean, Marigold. The man’s gone dog-demented, almost foaming at the mouth and I fear for that poor girl trapped all alone in there with him. ‘Tain’t right.’

  ‘We’ll feed up the poor maid when it’s over, and ‘tis not for much longer.’

  ‘Aye, and just as well. Don’t reckon she’d last much longer, way she looks now. He’s a wicked man and he deserves what’s coming.’

  ‘True enough. And at least we won’t have to cook all that fancy stuff them bloody Hallfolk clamour for at Yule. ‘Twill be plain, wholesome Stonewylde fayre and nought else, after Solstice Eve. About time too!’

  Old Greenbough yelled grumpily across the Circle at the men finishing off the great Solstice Bonfire. Like the one in the summer, it was built towards the edge of the Circle, on the opposite side to the Altar Stone. There was a platform with a beacon to be lit, and a ladder in the centre with a tiny entrance. The woodsmen were filling in the gaps between the large branches that formed the outer framework, and Greenbough stomped around issuing orders and muttering complaints.

  ‘I miss Yul, I really do,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘Like a squirrel he used to be as a lad, racing up and down the bonfire so agile. Nobody else comes close.’

  ‘Aye, well, he won’t be building no more o’ these, will he, sir? Not when he’s our new magus,’ mumbled a huge man, chopping up extra wood for padding out the fire.

  ‘Ssh!’ hissed Greenbough, glancing at the Hallfolk who were with Merewen and a group of Villagers putting the finishing touches to the paintings on the stones. Fennel looked up sharply and glanced at his sister, Rainbow. They raised their eyebrows at each other, feeling the strange atmosphere in the Circle – suppressed excitement, anticipation, but also fear.

  They continued their painting: mistletoe, holly and ivy, and the rising sun picked out in gleaming gold. The Altar Stone was decorated with evergreens around the base, and there were torches and braziers all surrounding the great Stone Circle. The entire Winter Solstice festival was a celebration of the return of light, the coming of the sun.

  ‘Do you reckon what they’ve been saying at the Hall is true?’ whispered Rainbow. ‘That Yul will become the new magus tomorrow night?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ muttered Fennel, ‘but I bloody well hope not. Village bastard! I wish Buzz was still here so we could give him a good thrashing like we used to.’

  ‘But what will happen to Magus? I don’t understand; how can Yul just take over? Magus would never let that happen – we all know how powerful and fierce he is.’

  ‘I don’t know, Rainbow. It’s a load of stupid Village talk I expect. We’ll be celebrating the Solstice as usual from tomorrow ev
ening, and Yule for the twelve days, and then off to Switzerland. Don’t worry about it – Yul’s just a Village peasant and nothing will come of all this bloody daft gossip.’

  They fell silent as Merewen approached, filthy in her paint-stained overalls, curly hair springing in profusion around her no-nonsense face.

  ‘Good, nice work. Rainbow, come and help me over at the big stone behind the altar – I need your fine hand.’

  Rainbow glanced in surprise at her teacher as they surveyed the largest of the stones where the key image for the festival was being painted. Merewen had outlined something totally out of place at the Winter Solstice.

  ‘I don’t understand! Why on earth are we painting a Green Man?’

  But Merewen merely smiled and handed her a paintbrush.

  Down in the Village there was a great deal of activity in preparation for the feasting and dancing that would begin the following night and continue for twelve days, with dances, dramas, singing, musical events and games. The Great Barn was decorated with evergreens and many candles and the Yule Log already lay in the enormous fireplace, ready to be lit. Every cottage in the Village had an evergreen wreath on its front door, representing the wheel of the year, and Yule candles stood in parlour windows to welcome the return of the sun. The trees around the Village Green had been hung with small lanterns to be lit each night. There was an air of anticipation trembling amongst the bare branches and trunks of the trees that formed the circle. The children ran wildly around the Green in their warm homespun jackets and pointed felt hats. They spoke excitedly of the Yule elves, dressed in green leaves, who’d visit their homes tomorrow night and leave little gifts in the knitted socks hanging over every hearth; honeyed cobnuts and creamy fudge, and carved animals or bead necklaces.